Prayers to St Anthony
by MSCSIFANGSR
Summary: A crime scene reenactment sets off sparks between our favorite Geeks. This is a response to the January Picture Challenge from 1Hour2write. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Prayers to St. Anthony  
AUTHOR: Chauncey10 aka MSCSIFANGSR  
PAIRING: Sidle-Grissom  
RATING: Mature, for a reason...just not in this first chapter.  
SUMMARY: A case reenactment sparks the sexual tension between between Sara and Gil.  
DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with them.  
SPOILERS: This is set pre-episode 'Bodies in Motion' and post 'Grave Danger' by a month or so.  
PROMPT: OneHour2Write's monthly picture challenge for January. Picture #14 is of a two pair of nude legs belonging to a couple on the floor in the kitchen with clothes scattered all around. Check my profile for the link to the Challenge.

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Chapter One

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Twenty-six year old Katie Andersen's dead body had been found by an exterminator when he'd made his monthly rounds of spraying for insects in the Elam Arms Apartments, a mid-rate housing complex where many casino workers and other blue collar workers lived their daily lives. The bug man had called the manager of the complex, who in turn had called the police. The young woman was found nude lying on her right side on the floor of the small kitchen at the end of the kitchen island, clothes were scattered throughout the kitchen, some on the floor, a burgundy bra hung precariously on the handle of the stove, while the matching panties were located near the dead woman's feet.

Grissom had catalogued the scene and the body with his camera, before moving to allow David Phillips, access to the body. Curiously, Grissom was intrigued by the case, where there was not a single bit of insect activity, not unsurprisingly since the exterminator was obliviously a good one. David was about to say something to him, when Sara Sidle's voice broke the silence of the room.

"What's the worst thing to find with a dead body?" Sara's question filled Grissom with dread.

"Another one?" He asked, hopelessly.

"Dead body, male, in the bedroom closet." Her delivery was flat, but her eyes belayed the emotions she attempted to conceal.

Grissom nodded once, before saying, "Document, everything. I'll keep this body, you can have that one."

"Geez, thanks." Sara turned back to the bedroom and left without further comment.

They had found a wallet in the back pocket of a pair a jeans found on the floor in the kitchen and the male dead body was found to be Jason Andersen, 40, of the same address as they were currently investigating. Grissom noted the remains of a meal with vegetables, bread and cutlery scattered over the functional island, but thought to himself how odd, there were no dinner plates, merely a large wok on a ceramic floral decorated plate.

That's when his cell phone rang; Grissom checked the caller ID: Sheriff Burdick. He paused, almost silencing the call, when he recalled, the sheriff had never called him in the entire six months the man had been in office.

The call lasted 4 minutes and 27 seconds, Grissom was to travel to Pershing County to assist law enforcement officials in the county of less than 7000 on a murder case involving Sheriff Burdick's cousin, who'd been found dead in his home covered in various insects. The local sheriff's department were at a loss for a correct time line on the man death and had used their tenuous connection to the Clarke County Sheriff's Department and had respectfully requested use of the esteemed entomologist.

"Sara?" Grissom called.

The brunette stuck her head out of the bedroom door, "Yes?" She remained in the doorway, reminiscent of her many forays in his office door.

"I have to leave per Sheriff Burdick immediately to assist our counterparts in Northern Nevada on a case. Do you want me to call Swing Shift to get you some help on this one? You can have Greg when he's done with his case. Sofia is still busy with the Johnson missing person."

"A double homicide, and I'm the lead, now? Sweet!" Sara grinned at him. He grinned back, unexpectedly. She continued, "You're leaving a non-bug infested crime scene? Must be something important, like a case with insects."

He smiled at her, "Yes, and a member of Burdick's family." Grissom responded.

"Oooh, politics." Sara whistled as she watched Grissom remove his latex gloves. His attention was no longer focused on her and she felt it necessary to prolong their conversation. "When do we get the old team back?"

"For now, Nick is scheduled to return within the week, so we will be together again then. Ecklie is shuffling around other swing and day personnel and in the process of hiring a few more CSI's." Grissom said as he gathered up his evidence and digital camera and gave them to Sara to add to her pile of evidence. "I'm sorry, but I have to go." He made for the main entrance of the apartment, turning his back on Sara.

"Grissom?" Sara had moved from the bedroom back toward the initial crime scene. She wore her hair up in a tight pony tail with no strands escaping the tightness of the rubber band that held it together. Sara was dressed for work, dark corduroy pants and matching top with a blood red stone laying at the indention of her neck, that hung on a black corded chain while her hands were covered in latex gloves. "How about you check with swing? It would be nice to work with Warrick maybe, if you could get him."

Grissom turned back at the sound of her voice, after nodding to the officer on duty who stood sentry at the entrance to the apartment. His ungloved hand held his ever-present cell phone to his ear, his other hand held up his index finger toward Sara, as if to say, 'gimme a minute'.

"Catherine, hi, I have to go out of town per orders of the Sheriff for several days." He paused. "No, I'm not asking you to pull doubles to make up for my absence."

His eyebrows shot up as he heard her reply. He mimicked the same index finger to his head motioning quick tight circles. Sara laughed without censorship, then held her own hand over her mouth. She couldn't believe that Gil Grissom had called Catherine Willows 'crazy'.

"Sara will be in charge of shift while I'm gone," he said into the receiver.

Sara's mirth was cut off quickly as her eyes widened in surprise.

"No, why I'm calling is to request Warrick to help out our shift on a double 419." He listened to her reply for a few minutes, then said, "Thank you, Catherine and I'll talk to you later in the week."

As Grissom pushed the end button on the phone, Sara immediately sprung into action, "Well?" as she approached Grissom coming so near, their bodies were nearly in contact.

"What?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"Do I get Warrick?" Sara smiled as he exhaled, the warmth of his breath on her exposed skin of her neck felt intimate.

"Yes, but not until tomorrow night, off this evening because of a earlier court appearance. So, collect all you can here, Greg can help if you need him. Leave as soon as you can, because you'll be the boss for the next several days, and you'll need all the rest you can get."

"Thank you."

They still hadn't moved, their close proximity reeking havoc on their senses. Sara stared up into his royal blue eyes, mesmerized. Grissom couldn't pull away from her, until the sound of his cell blared again. A quick "Grissom" and he was out the door without looking back.

Sara heaved a sigh, not of relief, but of something far more erotic and unfulfilling.

She missed the friendship they used to share before she'd moved to Las Vegas. It seemed to her that since Nick's abduction and maybe since the psycho-ward incident, that Grissom had been acting a bit friendlier to her than in the past several years. She wished they could go back and somehow renew their lost friendship.

Without bidding, a prayer her grandmother used to say when something was lost sprang into her mind:

_St. Anthony, St. Anthony  
Please come down  
Something is lost  
And can't be found._

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To be continued....

This story shouldn't be more than 5 chapters and all to be posted within this next week. I'm not sure where it's really headed at the moment since I'm not a hundred percent finished with it, butI decided to start posting it now, so I would be compelled to finish it and quickly...This rated Mature for a reason, just not until a bit later in the progression of the story.

Reviews are appreciated and decidedly make my day...:)


	2. Chapter 2

Prayers to St. Anthony

Chapter Two

DISCLAIMER et al in first chapter.

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A/N #1: Without the wonderful _LosingInTranslation_, there would be no story, since she issued the original challenge in the January Picture Challenge on 1hour2Write as a wonderful exercise in writing. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, then I'm well above that and only in the second chapter. Must have been a great picture-huh? Check out the link in my profile.

A/N #2: I wish to offer my humble thanks to the following three women who helped me in the composition of this story, all offered suggestions which I used in the story (i.e. where the story should go and etc.): _CSIGeekfan_ for her help in what is now the third chapter; _ProWriter11_ for assistance in Chapters 1-3, daring me to take an unorthodox stand; and _JellyBeanChiChi _for her sense of humor without which I doubt I could have completed any of it and I guess you could say she has been official beta, correcting spelling and my run-on sentences.

Now on with the story!

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Chapter 2

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**

It was five days later and Sara sat in Grissom's office late one morning after a normal, uneventful shift. She ostentatiously reviewed case files while chewing on the end of her pen. Sara loved the detailed organization the crime lab strove to achieve in its paper chain; it fit well with her slight anal approach to paperwork. She found that the massive paperwork that Grissom thoroughly despised helped her wind down after a long night of crime. It was fun, more than fun. It was better than a police scanner because she had access to everything involved in any of the cases involving the night shift.

Sara enjoyed the diverseness of the duties of the supervisor. She had the power to give Greg an easy case or Sofia a hard one or vice versa, just because. She didn't abuse her authority though, she passed out assignments to the CSIs who were most qualified for the case. There was no spite in her actions. She got along with the other employees and no one had any complaints while she sat in the big chair for the five days while the boss was gone.

She was going over a case in which Sofia Curtis had successfully solved. The Johnson girl's disappearance had been a major media blitz and Sara was glad she hadn't been involved. Sara frowned in concentration as she read over Sofia's careful notes, the frown wasn't so much the case, nor of the woman who's case it had been, but the timing had coincided with the case in which she and Grissom had shared prior to his abrupt departure.

The deaths of Jason and Katie Andersen were still unsolved.

The evidence had been inconclusive; no new leads, no witnesses, lab work and tox were still pending, even after four working days, autopsies denoted dead, but otherwise healthy bodies with some cellular necrosis in both livers. The male DB had some deep scratches on his arms. When tested, the epithelials under his fingernails, proved to be his own. Dr. Robbins was just as stumped as Sara but he held out hope for an answer in the complexities of the minute details of the reports still awaiting results.

Sara continued to fight tenaciously in her spare time throughout the week to discover why and what caused the Andersen's death. There was enough evidence to suggest foul play; there were many things out of place in the apartment, broken glass and upturned furniture and several fingerprints had been discovered the night of the investigation that proved someone other than the couple had been in the apartment, but the prints were not in AFIS. The same evidence could suggest the deaths of a newlywed couple were purely accidental; a friend or co-worker of the couple had come over and inadvertently left their prints behind and maybe the Andersen's were poor housekeepers and had forgotten how to clean up after themselves. That option seemed unlikely to Sara, but this was Vegas and stranger things had happened.

Either way, the case bothered Sara, not because she hadn't solved it, but rather because the couple was dead. She'd discovered in the course of the investigation the two had known each other for for 8 years and had only been married for three weeks. Several sources indicated Jason had been hesitant to begin a romantic relationship with Katie because of their age differences.

Sara laughed to herself: she could empathize with Katie on that subject.

The main thing that bothered her the most about the case, what kept her professional interest in the case instead of closing it as 'accidental deaths', was the fact that she'd found Jason's body in the closet. It wasn't that she'd been the one who discovered the body, it was that he was in the closet at all. She'd found Jason's body, nude on the floor of the bedroom closet in the fetal position.

When a body was found in that type of position, it could mean many things: the victim was posed, the victim died in severe pain, the victim was terrified, or it could have been the man's own response to whatever killed him. She wondered if she'd ever find out the truth as she envisioned each scenario in her mind.

The black phone rang jarring her out of her thoughts on the case.

"Sidle."

"Hey, I wanted to let you know you were off the hook." Grissom's voice sounded tired, as she imaged him on the other end of the phone, which wasn't hard to do since she was surrounded by everything that was quintessentially 'Grissom'. She could almost feel his presence in the room with her.

"Which means?"

"I'm back in Vegas. The case in Pershing county was solved satisfactory for all concerned parties. I'll be back in tonight." He didn't tell her that he'd thought about her all week: imagining her taking his place as night shift supervisor; handling out assignments; sitting in his chair doing paperwork; even sitting on his lap while he kissed her senseless. That he'd dreamed of her curled next to him as he slept in the rustic motel.

Sara was quiet for several moments as if she were reading his mind, so Grissom continued, "Any problems while I've been gone?"

"Not really, but there were a couple of snags along the way," she hated to admit.

"Care to elaborate?" His voice was commanding, but weary.

"The case we were working on when you left hasn't been solved; Colleen, a CSI, level 2, from days, you probably don't know who she is, but she had an altercation with a suspect from one of our cases, seems he slapped her in the interrogation room with Brass present. Then got him back, figuratively and literally: she hit him with a warrant for DNA for the case she was working and Colleen made him drop his pants for the sample. Very funny. You should have seen Brass' face. Greg had an interesting..."

"Sara?" Grissom interrupted her.

"Yeah?" She timidly replied.

He wanted to say, "You're over-talking," but he bit his lip instead and said, "It's 9 am, you should have left the lab hours ago."

"Then why did you call me here?"

He could almost picture her smirk. "Because I knew you'd still be there." She felt like she was being reprimanded. "Why don't you come over here at 10 and fill me in on everything that's been happening since I've been gone? You can tell me everything...from the top."

Silence filled the air way.

Sara's mind betrayed her, she'd quit listening after his first few words. _Grissom is inviting me over to his house. Oh yeah!_

"I just got home, it will give me time to shower and then we can talk." He said, breaking the silence. Then Grissom had an epiphany, an intitution that came from his many experiences as a CSI. He remembered a case from when he was first starting out as a CSI, in Minnesota. The piece seemed to fit this particular puzzle. "I think I have an idea on our case. Bring the case file with you. We can test my theory. Okay?"

"Sure. See you at 10."

Grissom hung up his phone. Visions of the two of them assaulted his thoughts. _Of course_ _that's perfect. Sara will be alone with me soon. Oh, I've got to stop those kind of thoughts right now or she may not be safe from my amorous attentions._

He began to pray, even if he didn't formally believe anymore:

_The answer to my prayer may require a miracle oh holy St. Anthony, even so you are the saint of miracles. O gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Infant Jesus..._

_Never mind, St. Anthony, the infant Jesus doesn't need to know my intentions, especially with the lovely Sara Sidle._

_Amen._

With that Grissom made his way into his kitchen to get everything ready for their experiment.

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To be continued.

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Reviews are appreciated because I just love 'em…:) And the SMUT is on it's way soon...I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

Prayers to St. Anthony

Chapter Three

DISCLAIMER et al in first chapter.

A/N: Thanks to all the readers. Without you, why would I even try to write? Thanks go to _CSIGeekFan _and_Moonstarer_ for their expertise and of course, to _JellybeanChiChi_, whom I think is more excited about a new chapter than a kid on Christmas morning...thank you for your wonderful beta skills.

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Chapter 3

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"Sara?" He stood in his open doorway wearing a smile, a towel around his neck, and not much more. Grissom was shirtless, and his bare feet peeked out of a pair of true blue sweat pants bearing the gold insignia of the University of California at Los Angeles. "You're here early."

She tried to calm her breathing, after all, his bare chest sent more signals to her brain than it could possibly process. She flushed a deep magenta then exaggeratedly looked at her watch and pointed to it's face: "It says 10 o'clock."

"I stand corrected," Grissom said as he made the concentrated effort to look down at the offered watch on the delicate wrist of the woman standing in his doorway instead of looking at the flushing skin on her face and neck. "Come in. I'll be just a moment."

"So, Arthur, going on some intergalactic journey* or something?" Sara asked sarcastically, as she casually referred to his towel wrapped around his neck. Although she realized that Grissom was a more than a considerable improvement on the main character of her favorite series of books. As he turned away from her, she noticed the tanned expanse of his back, which left her struggling to catch her breath.

The sound of his deep muffled laughter was music to Sara's ears, as he half turned the upper part of his body toward her. Speaking to her from over his own shoulder, he said, "No, but I did know that towels are the most 'massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker'* can have."

It didn't surprise her that Grissom 'got' her reference.

He continued, "I've been reading an excerpt from a journal written by a doctoral student in physics who believes he can prove that time travel is a possibility."

She had read the same article. Sara decided to play a bit of devil advocate: "Stephen Hawking has stated he doesn't think it's a viable reality, but there is some evidence that he might be changing his stance, although that's mostly unsubstantiated at this time. Many of the leading physicists of our time, believe in the paradox of that is time travel."

"And do you as a physicist, believe in time travel" His eyebrows quirked upward as he turned completely to face her again.

"I can only use a quote to express my own views, if that's not too presumptuous of me?" Sara stared into his eyes as he made his way closer to her. She noticed his nod, so she continued, "'I know well enough what it is provided that nobody asks me, but if I am asked what it is and try to explain, I am baffled.'"

He looked down at her and wondered how their bodies had managed to gravitate to within mere inches of contact. "My thoughts on you exactly."

Sara backed up a step and looked into his eyes, "Excuse me?"

He couldn't believe he'd just said that out loud, he made a step toward her again, but she backed up another step and he realized he may be intimidating her. He turned away attempting to make his way toward his bedroom so he could hide, oh no, not to hide, to put on some clothes.

"St. Augustine, if I'm not mistaken." Sara breathed easier as she watched him retreat from the room.

"I'm going to change. I have a theory on the Anderson's demise and since my kitchen has the same floor plan and appliances, I thought maybe, we, could…" he paused, turning back to look at Sara, who's expression was a mix between incredulous and panic.

He smiled at her and felt the irresistible urge to take her into his arms, but he repressed that, continuing, "I'll be right back." With that he left the room and Sara found her own way into his well-lit kitchen.

_It does look remarkably like the Andersen's_. She thought as she noticed the stainless steel appliances and although the Andersen's had hardwood floors, Grissom's was a drab gray based concrete. He even had a radiator in the same place as in the crime scene. This room felt warm and inviting, with the slight smell of citrus in the air, where the crime scene held the stigma of death.

On the island in the middle of the small kitchen were more vegetable than Sara would eat in a week; fresh produce, at that. Sara silently whistled at the spread of carrots, various colored peppers, an eggplant, a clove of garlic, spring squash, onions, broccoli, zucchini, mushrooms, celery, baby boy choy, ginger root, and bean sprouts. Neatly laid out beside the assortment, was a large wok, a bottle of sunflower oil, soy sauce, vegetable broth, chili powder, limes, lemons, a cello wrapped loaf of rye bread, some cutlery and two empty wine glasses.

Sara's stomach involuntarily growled. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. But she an irritating thought shot through her mind, Grissom hadn't invited her to eat, but to catch up on the happenings of the lab while he'd been gone and to perform a quick experiment in conjunction to an on-going case.

Which was odd. If a case required recreation, then the CSI's would either use the original crime scene or set the required components up in an unoccupied lab or one of the garages. But simulation of a crime scene had never, taken place outside those perimeters. Sara knew because it went against the rules of discovery.

And the rules were what Grissom was all about. Or at least so Sara believed.

Her stomach growled again. _I wonder if he remembered I am a vegetarian? No way, this is just a re-creation of a crime scene. _

She decided she couldn't resist the urge to look around Grissom's townhouse. As she was about to investigate her surroundings, she heard a dog bark.

Sara walked over to the sliding glass door and saw a rather large boxer sniffing expectantly at the door. She opened it and immediately the animal jumped up to her shoulders and gave her quite a tongue lashing. Sara's initial response was to push the animal down, but the animal wouldn't get off of her.

"Hank! Down! Now!" Grissom's voice commanded, so the animal didn't have any other option, but as the dog jumped off of Sara, he quickly licked her hand, as she petted him down.

"Hank?"

"After 'Hammering Hank' Aaron, the first baseball player to break Babe Ruth's all time home run record set in when he retired in 1935. Nobody thought the record could be broken." Grissomrambled while Hank unobtrusively went into the alcove off the kitchen which contained the laundry.

"Yeah, on April 8, 1974, Aaron hit number 715," Sara said proudly. "Is he your dog?" She pointed to the disappearing tail of the dog around the corner.

Grissom glared at her like she'd sprouted another head, "How do you know that?"

"Foster home number 6, my favorite. The husband was a baseball fanatic. He had a whole room enshrined to Hank Aaron. It was my favorite place in the house. I could study there, if I didn't touch anything. I remember a poster of him hitting the famous homerun on the wall. I would stare at it wondering what it felt like to hit a home run."

Gil Grissomhad been shocked in his life before, but the woman standing before him left him breathless.

Sara noticed Grissom had changed from the sexy 'outift' he had on when she'd first arrived to a pair of light colored jeans, a gray t-shirt and a plain pair of white socks adorned his feet. He still looked sexy to her.

"Yeah." Grissom responded a few minutes later, it slowly occurred to him that he hadn't answered her question about Hank.

"Huh?" Sara noticed he was closer to her than he'd been a couple of minutes ago.

"He's mine. Hank, he's my dog."

Grissom wondered if she was aware that he was getting closer to her. He moved very slowly, because he wanted to move faster, he wanted to throw her over his shoulder and take her.

The sound of his snort had Sara looking up into his blue eyes.

"He's cute. I think he likes me."

_You have no idea, my dear. _"So tell me everything about the time I've been gone first, then we'll work for a bit on our case, then we can eat, if you will?"

"So, is this the 'Restaurant at the end of the Universe**?' I've always wondered." Sara said, as Grissom led her back into the living room.

"I would think you as a vegetarian and a woman would prefer Milliway's rival at the other end of the universe, 'The Big Bang Burger Bar'**."

Sara stood there, her mouth open as she considered the _double entendre _of his statement.

_O miracle-working St. Anthony, remember that it never has been heard that you left without help or relief anyone who in his need had recourse to you._

Grissom prayed reverently as Sara sat on the couch next to him, much closer to him than was professionally appropriate.

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To be continued....

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Smut is definitely in the next chapter...:)

*References to "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" written by Douglas Adams (1979), which I used without permission. No copy write infringement intended.

**References to "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe" written by Douglas Adams (1980), which I used without permission. No copy write infringement intended.


	4. Chapter 4

Prayers to St. Anthony, Chapter Four

By: Chauncey10 aka MSCSIFANGSR

DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with them.

A/N #1: Thanks to _JellyBeanChiChi_ for her hard work on this chapter, especially that pesky passage we worked so hard to fix. Also I had to make a slight change in chapter one, because of the ending. You might not notice it, but I felt it was needed for continuity in the story.

A/N #2: This is by far the longest chapter of the story. The reason for original rating of Mature finally becomes apparent in this chapter. For all those who don't care for smut, then you can skip this chapter; you might miss something important, but who am I to tell you what to do? For the rest of you pervs, me included, enjoy! :)

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Chapter 4

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Sara told Grissom of all the cases and anecdotes of the past several days, including an incident involving Ecklie and all he could think about was the skin beneath her right ear. He wanted desperately to kiss that spot and since they were in such a close proximity to one another, he thought it would be possible without disturbing the delicate balance between their bodies.

He felt himself become aroused by the sound of her voice. He heard her, he really did. He just didn't know what she was saying.

Sara felt somewhat ill-at-ease. She didn't know if she wanted to bolt out of the door as quickly as possible or move slightly to the left and be enclosed in Grissom's arms. The heat radiating out of his body should be outlawed. She kept chattering on and on about different things that had happened in the five days he'd been gone and she could tell he wasn't listening, so she decided not to speak anymore.

After several moments of silence neither of them really noticed, Sara looked up into his royal blue eyes.

He looked back with an intensity she didn't know he possessed.

"So, we need to go over the Andersen case before we recreate it, don't you think?" His voice felt like velvet against her skin before he pulled back from their close position and opened the file, spreading the photographic evidence all over his coffee table.

Sara hadn't said anything, she merely pulled herself up into a more upright sitting stance and took one of the photos into her hand and studied it carefully.

"Since this isn't really a real reconstruction of a crime scene, what do you think really happened?" Her voice soft, behind the veneer of her tough exterior.

He pondered her question for a moment before answering honestly, "I think they ate a poisonous dinner, had sex, then died."

She attempted to slow down her rapid heart rate before she spoke again. "Okay, that makes sense. Poisoned how?" Her tone had changed from flirtatious to pure business without a blink. She was proud of herself.

"Mushrooms," he deadpanned.

"Okay. Intentional or accidental?" He noticed her eyes, the irises were bright, he could almost see the neurons firing in her brain.

"That I don't know," Grissom replied. "But I thought we could determine that by the recreating their last hour or so."

Her heart stopped. _Did he just say that he wanted to recreate a sex scene with me?_

He was still staring into her eyes. The irises enlarged, then narrowed. Gil held his breath. _Oh, no, I'm flirting with her again. _

Sara jumped up from the couch, like she'd been scorned by a flame. When she almost tripped over the recumbent Hank, she leaned down to absently scratch along Hank's spine as he lopped along beside her as she headed toward the kitchen. When she opened the door for the dog to go out, she took a deep breath of the fresh air. Then she watched as he made his way quickly to a bush to relieve himself.

"He can stay outside for a while if you want to shut the door. He's got a house out there and I put fresh water in his bowl there, just before you got here."

Sara slid the door closed, slightly slamming it, then walked over to the kitchen area.

Grissom finally made his way into the kitchen, quietly enjoying the fact that she appeared to be making herself at home. He watched her as she picked up a fancy, high end knife from the butcher block and began to chop the shiitake mushrooms into small pieces. He watched as she apparently took all her frustrations out on the poor mushrooms.

"So, you said that you had a case a long time ago and you came to the conclusion our victims had been poisoned by mushrooms. Would you care to explain the old case?"

Grissom moved to stand immediately behind her. His voice sounded so close to her ear when he began to speak, "I was in Minnesota before I worked here in Vegas. I had been a coroner in LA for a time before that," he took a deep breath of the essence of Sara Sidle. "I was just starting out as a CSI, maybe only for a year or so. The police had called me in to look at a case of a dead migrate worker, who picked mushrooms for a living and through many a twisted path, the coroner, a man named, Wade Wilson, and I finally were able to ascertain that the man had died from the ingestion of a type of Amanita mushroom." He really wanted to kiss that spot, there just beneath his lips. He forced himself to continue with his story. "He ingested _coprinus comatus_ mushrooms so it was determined that our victim died of from mistaking poisonous mushrooms for non-poisonous ones."

Sara made a face as she began to chop the red pepper.

Grissom then quoted, 'There are old mushroom hunters and there are bold mushroom hunters but there are no old, bold mushroom hunters!'

As Grissom spoke, he had moved closer and closer to Sara's body.

She didn't dare interrupt him, she was enjoying the feel of him so, so close, entirely too much.

When he finished his statement, his whole front covered her back, touching her. Both were very aware of the effect the other was having on their senses.

Sara continued to cut and chop the vegetables, making short work of the carrots as she sliced them like a professional cook. When she leaned over slightly to reach for the bok choy, she felt the distinct outline of his arousal against her butt. She froze for a moment, reveling in the moment.

"Cite your source," purred out.

"The Minnesota Poison Control Center's website."

Grissom pressed against her again with a sigh before turning to the stove to turn the electric burner on.

Sara missed his presence immediately, the lack of warmth, the lack of the hardness that rested perfectly between her butt cheeks. She continued with the vegetables until all were sliced, diced or chopped as Grissom moved around the kitchen first looking for the wok and sunflower oil, then puttering around looking for that bottle of a good Italian red wine someone from a forensics conference had given him earlier that year.

When he had the opportunity to touch her, he did. Light brushes against her if he had to use his body to maneuver around her in the small space, lingering soft caresses if he used his hands. His soft beard rubbing any of her available skin. It felt right to touch her, here in his home. He couldn't remember the last time he'd invited anyone there. But he was happy with her there now, happier than he'd been in a long time.

For her part, Sara did everything to invite his touch. She was beyond aroused, bordering on a state of euphoria, as she tried not to let the implications of this reenactment cloud her judgment.

Sara found his beard to be soft as a down comforter as compared to the wiry feel she'd expected. She knew she was only here to help Grissom recreate the scene of a crime, but she did enjoy her part in the play.

The wok sizzled with the oil as Grissom threw in the vegetables and the spices. Sara returned his earlier favor and crowded him to the back, pressing her hard nipples into the muscles of his back. He lightly gasped as she skimmed a fingernail over the skin of his forearm as he stirred the food with his other hand.

Sara expertly opened the bottle of wine and allowed it to breathe as the food was cooked. She poured each about three-quarters of a glass, leaving them on the kitchen island.

Grissom placed the wok on the ceramic plate as the food cooled. He took a sip of the wine and handed a glass silently to Sara. There had been no need for words between the two of them and as they stared at each other, the need still had not surfaced. He grabbed a fork and stuck it into a bit of the stir-fry, then blew with his mouth to cool it.

Sara watched as his lips puckered above the carrot he'd snagged. She wished his lips were closer to hers, when unexpectedly he extended the fork to Sara's mouth, urging her to eat what he offered.

Gil inhaled sharply as she ingested the food. They began taking turns feeding the other or dabbling at the corners of the other's mouth with a napkin to remove evidence of the remains of the meal. They consumed the bottle of wine and ate the rye bread with fingers feeding the other. Grissom was the first to taste the other's skin. Sara was feeding him some bread, when her finger got in the way, he took the digit into his mouth and lightly sucked it.

Sara moaned.

Grissom grunted, "Mmmm."

Then the kisses started; the food forgotten.

Neither was sure who instigated their first kiss, but neither cared. They accepted the moment as it was. He pulled her closer, letting his hands roam the uncharted territories of his Sara. Her lips tasted of wine and vegetables, so he delved his tongue into her mouth. The certainty of what the two of them were about to do entered his mind. But his thoughts didn't stop him; they merely spurred him toward completion.

Sara took his tongue and mimicked the action of sucking it farther inside her mouth. Her brain told her to stop, but her heart and body told her otherwise. She pulled him closer, letting her own hands roam over his back. She recalled her glimpse of his back when he'd opened the door to her; her brain supplied the images, her hands explored the skin as she inched her way up into his t-shirt.

Without thought, Grissom removed his offending shirt, then allowed Sara to resume her soft massage of his back, as their kisses became more passionate. He backed her into the counter, pressing his need into her.

Sara moaned, again and it wouldn't be the last time, either.

He lifted her shirt to find she'd worn a burgundy colored bra, almost the same shade as the one in the crime scene photos.

She laughed when he removed it and with careful attention to detail, hooked an arm through the handle of his stove. She stood there waiting for him to notice that the two of them were shirtless in his kitchen.

Oh, he noticed and began kissing her again, while trying to divest her of her pants. He wanted to know if she had worn a matching set. He flicked his tongue across her collarbone as he looked down at her underwear, then Grissom nibbled his way down to her exposed breast in appreciation for her attention to detail.

She kicked her pants away, to free her legs. Mainly because Grissom's hands were roaming beneath her panties, squeezing and palming her ass. The wonderous nuzzling of his beard against her cheek had her fascinated. She wanted to touch him, so she began to unbutton his jeans. She hadn't noticed before, but he had worn button-flies and as each button was released, she got a better view of what Grissom kept concealed beneath his usual baggy pants.

Sara wasn't surprised by the fact he'd gone commando, she could not have been more surprised by anything other the fact they were about to conclude all these years of pent up sexual frustration they had suffered.

His penis sprang forth, as she took his length into her hand, pumping the shaft several times in slow succession.

Grissom's mouth covered her nipple, sucking and tugging with his teeth. Suddenly, Sara threw her leg up onto the counter and he was allowed access to her wet pussy through the leg of her underwear. The move startled him, but his hand instantly moved to the offering. The tip of his finger found her hardened clit; he circled it slowly making her moan all the more.

They continued kissing each other, mouth against neck, on lips, along the other's jawline, down the chest.

He assisted out of her panties, and she of his remaining socks. He leaned on the edge of the counter as Sara took his dick into her hand, masturbating him. He could only return the favor as they kissed, he reached down and caressed her, sliding a finger inside her wetness. They couldn't seem to get close enough; he edged off the counter and took her nipple into his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue around the tip. Grissom swung her around and she instinctively threw her leg up on the counter again.

She guided him inside her in one thrust. Grissom grabbed her other leg and spread it out over his kitchen island. Sara Sidle was spread eagle on his counter top and he was fucking her. Life couldn't get any better.

Their bodies slammed against each other, the only sounds were skin on skin and moans of pleasure. Sara slipped her legs around Grissom's waist in order to pull him farther into her.

He loved watching her breasts jiggle as he plunged inside her again and again.

She loved the velvet smooth hardness of his cock as it moved across her g-spot.

The action slowed for a moment as Grissom lowered them to the floor, his hard penis still inside Sara's warmth. They pulled apart as Grissom lay down on the floor, pulling her sex to his mouth as she stood straddled over him. The sensation of his soft beard rubbing the insides of her thighs was almost too much for pleasure for her. But then he flicked his tongue over her clit. She ground down into him when she realized he had his dick in hand, keeping himself hard, for her. That's when the first orgasm slammed her, hard.

He had one hand on himself and a finger or two inside her and his tongue beating a rhythm against her clit. She tasted like tupelo honey. She writhed, while pinching her own nipples and running her hand through his soft silver hair. She came screaming not his name, but low pitched sounds that had never escaped from her in all her life.

He wanted to kiss her mouth, but he had to settle for the junction between her thigh and her honeypot as the spasms continued to rock her body. He lay down and smiled up at her, enjoying the view.

Sara then lowered herself onto his erect shaft as she leaned down to kiss the smirk off his face.

The 'oooof' sound he made when he was all the way inside her surprised him.

They began to move, together, tentatively at first and as the emotion and heat of the moment sped things up, their pace did too. Sara took the lead as she bobbled on his shaft as he lay on the floor with his eyes fixed on the woman on top of him. Their gaze never wavered as the friction between their bodies built. They slowed, languidly kissing before resuming a much faster pace.

He loved the heat that radiated around his prick as it moved inside her.

Sara loved watching him as she rode him.

She came once more.

Grissom felt the sensations on him and knew she was achieved another climax, he tried not to let himself reach the same peak. He wanted to be able to give her more pleasure, because he loved this new Sara, the one screaming his name as he fucked her senseless.

When she calmed down from her latest orgasm, Grissom deftly flipped her over onto her back, covering her body with his. The sweat dripped freely between them, as he slid down her body effortlessly. He let his body caress hers, Gil just wanted to touch each part of her. He moved back up and let his still hard erection rest in the juncture of her thighs.

"May I?" His words broke the silence between them since before the their meal was even finished cooking.

"Yes, please."

He surged into her, then slowly pulled out of her several times as he worked up his pace. Sara's legs managed to wrap around his waist to keep him in place as he pounded into her. Within minutes, maybe days, perhaps seconds, Gil could feel the pressure building in his balls, slowly making its way toward an eruption.

When Grissom came, the word "Sara" filled the kitchen in voice and tone he couldn't believe escaped his own mouth. He wondered if Sara recognized his cry of love and adoration in that single word, as she lay shattered beneath him.

Grissom rolled over nestling her on top of him.

"So, now I guess I'm dead," Sara spoke in an emotionless tone, not daring to look at him. She stared at the exposed radiator to her left, remembering that the Andersen's had a similar device in their apartment.

Grissom could't figure out what she meant. His silence and confused expression was the only clue Sara had to his state of mind.

"The recreation of the scene: I'm playing the part of the dead woman, Katie Andersen; you're Jason Andersen, remember? So, how did you get in the closet?" She prompted him.

"Sara, I wasn't thinking about the Andersen case just now and this wasn't about a crime scene. At least it wasn't for me." He hoped she understood that to him what they had just shared was a long time dream, not a crime scene reenactment.

Sara's eyes widened. "Did you just say..."

"Yes, this was us, not some reenactment."

"Oh, good," she said, obiviously relieved.

"Why is that?" Gil wondered out loud.

"I was afraid the best sex of my life," she paused, wriggling her eye brows, "was not for me or you, but for our jobs."

Grissom smiled and pulled her tighter to his chest.

"Rest now, Sara," he said as he prayed silently to himself.

_O Holy St. Anthony, gentlest of all saints, miracles have waited on your word. I humbly thank you St. Anthony for answering my prayer and for helping me obtain that which I've desire for so long. I entrust onto you, this humble request: Never let me lose this. Oh, and I'm very thankful Sara is so good in the kitchen. Amen._

* * *

To be continued.

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Reviews are deeply appreciated...:) One more chapter follows this one.


	5. Chapter 5

Prayers to St. Anthony

Chapter Five

DISCLAIMER et al in first chapter.

A/N: This story is now complete. I wish to thank everyone: my readers, my betas, and my friends for their help in writing this story. It's been fun.

And I'm especially grateful to the TPTB for giving us a happy ending.

* * *

Sara had conditioned herself to awake instantly to the high-pitched shrill of her ringing cell phone. She reached under her pillow for the device, but found she wasn't laying on a pillow, but rather a warm Gil Grissom. In fact her whole body was sprawled out over his and both were still on the floor of his kitchen.

She pushed herself off of him and looked at the mess they'd made. She flushed as images of earlier that day flashed through her head. Their 'crime scene' looked an awful lot like the photos still scattered on Grissom's coffee table. She quickly located her phone in the front pocket of her pants that were lying haphazardly on the floor. She flipped open the phone to see she had a text message from Albert Robbins, who politely requested Warrick and her presence in the morgue as soon as Sara's shift started.

Looking up on the clock on the stove, Sara was startled to see that her shift was to begin in 30 minutes.

She looked over at the still sleeping man on the floor. She smiled, thinking only yesterday she would never be exposed to the sight before her. His body was magnificent. His body was sleek and smooth, tan and trim, soft and hard…

His hand moved over his shaft in his sleep.

Sara looked away, and quickly gathered up her clothes and rushed to his bathroom.

He woke up, wondering where his blanket had gone. He rolled over and immediately realized he was on the floor of his kitchen, naked. Sara entered his thoughts when he heard the sound of the shower running in another part of his townhouse. Grissom tried to rise, but found that sleeping on the floor was not something a 50-year-old man should attempt.

He heard the sound of Hank scratching at the door, so when he was finally able to achieve standing, he walked over to the door and let the dog in. Grissom stepped outside and marked the same bush Sara had seen Hank mark hours earlier. He then stretched his body, enjoying the fine stiffness in his joints.

When he went back inside, he gathered up the remaining clothes on the floor and made his way into the laundry room. Hank was waiting patiently to be fed and watered. Grissom threw his dirty clothes into the basket and poured some food into Hank's bowl.

That's how Sara found him. His naked butt bent over a dog bowl.

She whistled out loud without thought.

Grissom jumped upright, turned and covered his privates in one fluid motion to face the sound.

"Hi," Sara said as she laughed at him.

He noticed she was wearing the same clothes she'd had on that morning.

He didn't respond to her greeting, so she continued, "I hope it was okay, but I took a quick shower. Doc paged me to the morgue and I need to be there in 15 minutes. I'm leaving now."

Grissom stared after her, unable to move from his position. He cleared his throat when her hand reached the doorknob.

"Wait," his voice was higher pitched than usual.

She turned and saw that he was walking toward her.

"I wanted to say goodbye properly." His voice had evened out, as he took her in his arms and kissed her.

When they pulled apart, he looked down in her eyes. "I'll go in my car and I'll see you there."

Sara grinned at the image before her: a naked Gil Grissom in all his glory was standing before her. She wanted to kiss him again, but she was needed at the lab.

"Yeah, I'll see you there." Sara started to open the door, but turned instead to her new lover. "You might want to get dressed, first," she said as he picked up his car keys.

Grissom looked down, shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't think you'd mind." He was grinning at her.

"I don't, but I wouldn't want you arrested for indecent exposure."

He was still grinning. "See you at the lab in a bit then. Bye Sara."

"Bye, Gil."

* * *

"I finally have the autopsy results from the double you had a few days ago," the chief medical examiner said to the two level three CSI's: Warrick Brown and Sara Sidle.

Warrick interrupted, "Yeah, the tox results finally came back a little while ago. I know what killed them."

"Mushroom poisoning."

Warrick and Robbins both looked at Sara wide-eyed. Warrick laughed while adjusting the hidden ring behind his back. "You sound more and more like Grissom every day."

"And?" Sara's voice clearly contained irritation.

"Nothing, I got the tox results, Doc here has the autopsy results and you have nothing, but you know what killed them? With absolutely no evidence? What gives?"

Sara shrugged her shoulders.

"But she's right, Warrick. Mushrooms killed our couple."

Sara smiled, "Amanita, poisonous mushrooms."

Unbeknownst to the two CSI's Grissom quietly made his way into the morgue. He silenced his friend with a finger to his lips, so he wouldn't alert the younger investigators to his presence.

"Nope," Warrick's voice contained a bit of gloating. "Psychotropic mushrooms…or so says tox."

"That would make sense, the male victim was found in the closet with deep scratch marks in his arms. If he'd used a hallucinogenic drug, it might have appeared to him that he had, say, some spiders crawling all over him, he'd try to get them off. Maybe he was hiding in the closet from some hallucination."

"Again, you're right Sara and Warrick." Both of the CSIs smiled at each other, before Robbins' voice continued, "But however right both of you are, it's not what killed them."

"I did discover mushrooms in their stomach contents. Mushroom poisoning, also known as mycetism, refers to deleterious effects from ingestion of toxic substances present in a mushroom. Mushroom poisoning is usually the result of ingestion of wild mushrooms after misidentifying of a toxic mushroom as an edible species. The most common reason for this misidentification is close resemblance in terms of color and general morphology of the toxic mushrooms species with edible species. So you're right there, Sara."

She looked at Warrick, daring him to say something.

Robbins continued. "Now, Warrick, you're right, too. Tox panels came back and reported high levels of psilocybin and psilocin in the urinalysis, which usually isn't included in a standard test. Since I couldn't determine COD, then I asked for an extended panel."

"Psilocin, an active ingredient in psychotropic mushrooms, when taken orally is distributed throughout the body. Concentrations in tissues appear highest about half an hour after ingestion, decreasing rapidly over the next three to four hours. The small intestine, skin, bone marrow, lungs, stomach, and salivary glands also have significant concentrations -- greater, in fact, than those in the brain. The fact that we found the bodies about three days after death, negates most of the validity of that assumption."

Sara elbowed Warrick.

"Ouch, girl." He rubbed his side with his left hand, Sara noticed immediately the ring on his third finger. She didn't want to say anything in front of the coroner, but she would when given the opportunity.

"So, what killed them, Doc?" Warrick asked.

"St. Anthony's Fire."

"What?" Both investigators asked in unison.

"It was a dreaded disease in the middle ages where the sufferers experienced hallucinations, writhed in agony in their beds, ran crazily in the streets and suffered terrible burning sensations in their limbs. The cause was poisoning from a fungus, ergot, that grows on rye grass. The fungus contaminated the rye flour used in making bread."

"Ergot contains a chemical that makes the sufferers go berserk and causes gangrene of the hands and feet due to constriction of blood supply to the extremities. If it is not treated (and this was not possible in the Middle Ages), victims had the sensation of being burned at the stake, before their fingers, toes, hands and feet dropped off."

"Why is it named after St. Anthony? I thought he was the patron saint of lost articles."

Grissom finally made his presence known by reciting almost verbatim from a book he'd studied as a child while enrolled in Catholic elementary school:

"Saint Anthony of Egypt was a hermit and one of the earliest monks. It was said that he had a photographic memory which made him a perfect saint for believers to ask for assistance in locating lost object. During the course of a retreat, he began his legendary combat against the devil, withstanding a series of temptations famous in Christian theology and iconography. Anthony's spiritual combats with what he envisioned as the forces of evil made his life one long struggle against the devil."

"The devil's assault on Anthony took the form of visions, either seductive or horrible, experienced by the saint. Anthony endured many such attacks, and those who witnessed them were convinced they were real. Every vision conjured up by Satan was repelled by Anthony's fervid prayer and penitential acts. So exotic were the visions and so steadfast was Anthony's endurance that the subject of his temptations has often been used in literature and art."

"It is thought by scientists, that he suffered from 'ergotism'. This can occur by the overuse of the drug or by eating baked goods made with contaminated flour, as happened in the Middle Ages, such as rye bread."

Sara spoke, "The victim's had rye bread as part of their meal. How is that possible?"

Dr. Robbins took over the explanation, "Microscopic mushrooms cause a type of fungus on rye and if not properly cooked, can cause mild to severe burning in the body. Also mental disorientation, convulsions, muscle cramps and later, gangrene of the extremities. Lyseric acid diethylamide, better known as LSD, is highly chemically related to this."

Warrick looked confused, "So how do you know so much about this, Grissom?"

"Ergotamine is an active ingredient in meds used to treat migraine headaches."

Warrick nodded his head. Sara looked at Grissom and smiled. He returned her smile.

"So, Doc? What's your official COD?" Warrick said as he pointedly looked at the head coroner, rolling his eyes in an amusement at the way the two looking at each other.

"Accidental deaths due to ingestion of poisonous mushrooms." Dr. Robbins looked back at Warrick slowly nodding in agreement with their unspoken exchange.

"Griss, man, it's great to be back on the night-shift. I've really missed working with you guys."

Grissom tore his gaze from Sara and looked up at the sound of Warrick's comment; Grissom had an almost guilty expression on his face. But he covered it quickly as he spoke in a steady tone.

"Warrick, I'll meet you in the break-room in a little while, I believe Nick is there, along with Greg and Catherine, waiting for assignments.I saw him briefly in my office before I came down here. He looks good. We have one case for now, a suspicious trailer explosion at a trailer park with two dead, so we'll all work together tonight. I need to go by my office for a minute first. Sara, could you join me?"

They left the morgue, walking so close they were almost joined at the hip.

"You know, Doc, I'd put money on a secret romance between those two," Warrick said as Al Robbins closed the file on the report on the Andersen's deaths.

"You and me both, Warrick. I'd say it was a sure thing."

* * *

When they exited through the morgue doors, Grissom noted they were alone and he quickly checked both ways down the hall. With a practiced ease, he seized the opportunity to caress Sara's hand, lacing it with his fingers.

They heard the conversation between Warrick and Doc Robbins about of the state of their romance through the double doors as they stood surreptitiously holding hands in the lab.

"My dear, I'd say our colleagues were onto a sure thing, wouldn't you?"

"I wonder if anyone else suspects anything?" Sara let go of his hand like it was on fire.

He shrugged his shoulders, wondering why she had forced his hand away from his. That's when he saw Colleen, the CSI who had an incident with one of Sara's suspects, walk toward them.

He nodded in acknowledgement to the young woman as she passed them going into the morgue. She smiled at both of them. Then Grissom quickly placed the palm of his hand on her low back.

He whispered to Sara, "We really need to get to my office." He pressed his hand into her, leading her in the right direction.

He really needed to get her to his office before he embarrassed the two of them.

She loved the feel of his hand against her back. It showed possessiveness. Sara wasn't a possession, and hated women who allowed themselves to be, but when Grissom possessed her it was a really great thing.

When Grissom and Sara reached the safety of his office, he didn't bother turning on the lights. Instead he led Sara over to a darkened, recessed area hidden between the racks of experiments.

He quickly uplifted her face with his hand and bent down to kiss her, taking her lips captive with his.

When they pulled apart, Sara asked, "Why'd you do that?"

"Oh, it's just been too long since I last did that," he half-smiled as he leaned in for another kiss.

Sara smiled, "But it's only been about forty-five minutes since we left your place."

"Exactly, way too long." He leaned in and placed another kiss on her lips.

A quick prayer to St. Anthony formed in Sara's mind as he continued kissing her.

_St. Anthony, I know you're the patron saint of lost things, but I pray to you, I never want to lose this man. Amen._

"Now, let's go reunite with our old team," he said as he grabbed her hand and led her to the door.

* * *

THE END

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Again, thanks for reading...:) and let me know what you thought of the story...i'd really like to know :)


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